


The Assassin and The Fire Lord

by gaydaractivate04



Series: The Adventures of Ambassador Sokka [8]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassination Plot(s), Burns, Can be read as a stand alone, Character Death, Finally, Hurt Sokka (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Near Death, Revenge, Zuko and Katara brotp, bamf zuko, they angry together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydaractivate04/pseuds/gaydaractivate04
Summary: The relative peace between the realms was holding, treaties revised and new friendships forged. It is then, after Prince Consort Sokka and Fire Lord Zuko have ruled together for two years, that loyalists of the old regime try to strike at the heart of the Fire Nation, a desperate gamble of a dying organization.Fire Lord Zuko does not like it when enemies come for his family.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: The Adventures of Ambassador Sokka [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793116
Comments: 32
Kudos: 220





	The Assassin and The Fire Lord

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to gunpowder_and_pearls and pinstripedJackalope for beta reading this -- you cleaned up my act and my late night writing. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this work, the entire reason I started this series in the first place. I have been waiting to write this for so long, and it's finally time.
> 
> Also, I sped wrote this in two days because wisdom teeth are going tomorrow and I'd like to get this out before I'm on painkillers and pudding for a week.

Sokka made Zuko feel invincible, as if they could never end. It was a dangerous sort of feeling.

They had been married for just over two years, the world coming back to balance as peace prevailed. Uncle Iroh had retired to Ba Sing Se, opening the tea shop he had wanted for so very long.

Toph’s metalbending school was becoming a success, her monthly updates - transcribed by a steadier and steadier hand - were filled with less vitriol, though her insults had become more creative.

Katara was settling into her role of next-in-line to chief, training the next generation of waterbenders, as some left the Northern Water Tribe and went south, and young girls asked to fight. Aang, as far as Zuko knew, alternated between being by his future wife’s side and building his airbending school.

It seemed that the Ozai loyalists had been trying to resurface, seeing the Dragon of the West in retirement, the crew of the Wani back home, Kyoshi Island focusing more on internal construction than before, as they rebuilt the next generation of warriors.

Seeing the Fire Lord wrapped in his personal life, _distracted_ and _weak_ -

Zuko never should’ve let this happen.

If he’d been more vigilant, if he’d paid attention and seen the signs as they’d appeared, if Sokka had just allowed him to up his guard -

So many _ifs._

There was no way to go back in time, no way to fix the destruction that had already been wrought. There was only moving forward, only continuing on with life. Only finding who’d done it and burning them to _ash._

It had happened in the early hours of the morning, before Agni had risen above the horizon, before the everyday staff of the palace had left the warmth of their beds, only half an hour after the guard change.

Zuko hadn’t been there, he hadn’t been able to stop them, he’d been _useless -_

Zuko hadn’t been there. He was in the library, unable to go back to sleep, the horrible images from his nightmares dancing behind closed eyelids, the silk of his bedsheets smothering, the arms around him choking.  
  
He’d slipped out of bed silently, carefully loosening his husband’s grip around him, not wanting to wake him, not after such an exhausting day before. Of course, Sokka had woken anyways, as he did every time Zuko left at odd hours, some sixth sense tuned to Zuko’s well-being.  
  
Sokka had sat up from the bed, one hand threaded through his hair, the other supporting him, as he blinked blurrily up at Zuko. “Memories?” he’d asked, so concerned, even after Zuko had disturbed his sleep.

Zuko had offered him a soft smile in return, unable to resist the instinctive rise of happiness every time he was his husband like this. “I’ll just be gone for a few hours. I’ll prepare for the meeting later today.”

There had been plans to meet with the minister of agriculture, to consult with him as villages from the outskirts brought their grievances, their crops wilting and bearing little fruit. There had been plans to help those villagers, to send ideas of what they could do to replenish the soil, to send grain to tide them over.

Those plans had been pushed aside, to be looked over at a later date, to be reviewed at a later date by someone, _anyone_ who was holding it together.

Because Zuko -

Zuko wasn’t.

He _hadn’t been there._ He’d been in the library, reading, researching, taking notes of strategies used by previous Fire Lords, used by the Earth Kingdom before they developed ways of incorporating bending in their farming.

His personal guards had been idling by the doors, after doing a cursory sweep of the room. Chen and Shao had pulled the two guards from the end of the hall to stand at their bedroom doors, ensuring Sokka would still be protected even as the royal guards accompanied their charge.

Sokka should’ve been protected.

A servant had come running, _sprinting_ down the halls, his footsteps audible even through the great, thick doors of the library. Zuko’s head had lifted from his stack of scrolls, his brush set down safely, away from his document.

He’d been unconcerned at first, thinking it was some mundane message from a noble who’d bolted upright in their bed, thinking they had a legitimate issue that needed to be resolved _immediately._ Thinking, perhaps, that Xiu Ying had sent one of the younger servants to summon him, for some early morning tea -- he wasn’t the only who woke at strange hours, after all.

Chen had answered the door with a smile, likely expecting the same thing Zuko was, and that smile dropped when he saw the person behind it. Wordlessly, his guard has stepped aside, admitting a pale faced young man, who barely slowed as he _ran_ to Zuko.

All Zuko could think was that it had been a long, long time since someone had ran for him like that.

The servant told him- he told him-

He told him that an assassin, an assailant, had gotten into the palace. He told him that the assassin had gone for Prince Consort Sokka, that the guards had been found with their throats slit, that the murderer had been a firebender and it was the smell of the burning bedroom that had caught the attention of a passing guardswoman.  
  
Zuko had knocked half the papers from the desk in his scramble to the door, the hall, to his husband -

The servant couldn’t even tell him if Sokka was _alive._

He ran through the halls faster than he ever had before in his life, faster than even when he’d run _for_ his life, because this wasn’t his life -

This was Sokka. And if Sokka was dead, if he was gone, if he’d been burned to death while Zuko had been reading scrolls and writing notes, if his husband had been _assassinated_ while he’d been happily unaware -

_Useless._

Chen was racing after him, he could hear the armor clinking, the footsteps pounding as more guards joined him, torches flaring, scorching the ceiling, as Zuko blew by. He didn’t bother controlling that, not now, not when _everything_ was so insignificant next to Sokka.

The hallway was drenched in blood, the walls sprayed with it, pools congealing on the floor, staining carpets and tapestries. The smoke - _Agni, the smoke_ \- billowed from their room, thick and black where it blanketed the ceiling.

Zuko was coughing, the air so _suffocating,_ as he staggered down the hallway, towards the shadowy figures he could see at the end, lifting bodies from the ground, guards too late to save their comrades.

The guards hadn’t died painlessly, though it had been quick, quicker than the assassin had likely wanted -- but with a higher profile target, guards were a necessary casualty, not a death to stand over and enjoy. 

Their throats had been cut, over the artery, the blood spraying out so fast, not giving them a chance to call for help, to alert _anyone._

Zuko fought his way to the end of the hall, feet slipping through pools of blood, collar pulled over his mouth and nose, the figures becoming clearer, the edges becoming sharper. One, two, three -

They lurched by, carrying the fallen sentries. A third must’ve come, at some time, there was only supposed to be two on duty. So many meaningless deaths, just to get to the life the assassin, the loyalists, had really wanted to end.

Captain Izumi, emerging from the smoke, a scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face. In her arms there was -

Held in her arms, wrapped in the remains of the blankets, singed and scorched -

Chen had him by his shoulders, tucking Zuko’s head down as he turned him around and Zuko followed numbly, knowing they needed to get out of the smoke before he could do anything, before he could check if Sokka was- was-

Before he could make sure his husband was alive.

He let his guard tug him to the end of the hall, around the corner and farther, to where the medics were waiting, a stretcher between them. The dead, the bodies, those had already been carried away, on stretchers of their own.

Zuko waited for Izumi, waited for her to pass by and bring Sokka to the healers, to the doctors so they could _save him -_

The captain of his guard followed them out of the smoke filled hall, her face uncharacteristically pale as she hurried to the medics, a level of fear, of _terror_ in her movements that Zuko had never seen before, not in his five years as Fire Lord.

It was something he’d hoped to never see.

And the body, _Sokka,_ was so limp in her arms, concealed in those red sheets. It was as if Zuko’s feet were rooted to the ground, made of lead and welded in place, as he watched, Izumi lowering his husband with the gentleness of a mother holding her babe.

The sheets fell back, the medic tossing them aside, and Sokka was -

It smelled like cooked meat, like burning hair, the stench so strong Zuko felt as if he would vomit, bile rising in his throat.

The _burns,_ they were everywhere, clothing melted into flesh, raw red and weeping wounds, charred and blackened skin -

_Ashes fluttering down -_

Zuko _screamed,_ a wordless cry of fear and vengeance, ripping from his lungs and tearing through his throat, _animal._

Someone had _done this._ Someone had hurt him, to get to _Zuko,_ and Sokka _wasn’t breathing -_

He screamed again, a sob rising and breaking, doubling over as he threatened to collapse, wings unfurling and fire flaring -

All the torches in the hall went out, smothered, the flames drowning under the weight of Zuko’s rage, of his grief, as he _shattered,_ as the medics took off through the palace, sprinting for the infirmary just as Zuko had sprinted for his husband.

Someone had come up behind him, arms wrapping around him, pinning his own against his torso, a voice was shouting in his ear but it _wasn’t Sokka,_ _they didn’t matter -_

A pinch, sharp and hard, against the back of his neck and Zuko went limp, his legs buckling and head lolling, smoke leaking from his mouth, sparks leaking from his hands, as the darkness closed in. 

A roaring in his ears, because Sokka was -

Sokka was -

_Silence._

  
  


_______________

  
  


Awareness came back in pieces, broken snippets of words, of conversations, drifting through his mind, light shifting and changing on the other side of his eyelids. 

“- the burns, they’re extensive, I don’t know -”

“- fever is rising, get me more cold water, _now_ -”

“- the Fire Lord going to do after this?”

The bed Zuko laid on was soft, the blankets draped over him was light, tucked around his waist. He was still wearing his sleep clothes, the faint smell of smoke drifting off of them. Sunlight streamed over him, curtains that had once covered the window now drawn aside, as Agni rose in the sky. 

He was in the infirmary, in the general wing, where stable patients were cared for. There was only one other bed occupied, a lightly bandaged guard who’d had an accident involving a fountain, a bottle of sake, and high risk firebending.

The last question was still ringing through the air, the speaker standing on the other side of the room. A pair of healer’s assistants stood before a wood table, its surface blanketed with vials and bowls, tinctures and creams. 

They appeared to be halfway through preparing a dose of sedative, if Zuko had recognized the leaves correctly -- he’d like to think he did, with all that his mother taught him about medicines and plants.

Zuko pushed himself upright, wincing as the movement brought his growing headache to his temples in full force, as the rustle of cloth alerted the apprentices of his wakefulness. Wide eyed, one of them rushed from the room, the teen nearly running into the doorway on his way out.

The other curtsied, her hair in a tight bun, not a strand moving out of place as she dipped. “Sokka’s healer will be here in a moment, Your Majesty, to brief you on his condition.” The girl’s voice was hesitant, soft. 

As if she feared he’d shatter if she spoke too loud.

And she may have been right, to speak so gently to him, for Zuko felt _frayed,_ as if he were coming apart at the seams, a sick weight settling in his stomach as the events of the night before returned in full force.

_Ash and smoke, burns and blood and fury -_

“Would you like some water?” asked the assistant, watching him, waiting for a response. Those sharp eyes would serve her well in her career.

He could only shake his head -- he didn’t need anything, not while Sokka was hurt and Zuko didn’t know how bad it was, not while he still waited to hear of his husband’s condition. There was _no need_ to drink water, not when he could do without.

Ayumi, one of the most talented and revered healers among the palace workers - as she had come to be, no longer staying _small_ and _unnoticeable_ with Ozai gone - was the next person to come through the doorway, her recognizable face a relief.

He knew her from his childhood, the woman sticking near his mother, patching up every scrape he got, be it from ill-planned adventures or otherwise. He knew her from the aftermath of the Agni Kai, her hazy face featured in his fever stricken memories. He knew her from the day of his ascension, when she treated his cuts and burns, her hands refusing to shake.

Zuko knew her -

And he trusted her, with his life and Sokka’s.

The woman made her way directly to Zuko, not even pausing to check the apprentice’s work, her hair escaping from its tie, her eyes ringed with dark circles. 

“Your Majesty,” she began. The healer even _sounded_ tired. He had no doubt she’d been working without pause, but he needed to know the results, needed to know the finished product of her skill - “Sokka made it through the night.”

_Thank Agni._

There was no need to hide the relief on his face, the slump of his shoulders and breath that escaped him; he did not hide behind a mask of formalities, as so many rulers before him had.

The blanket was pushed aside, and cold stone met Zuko’s feet as he swung his legs down, bracing himself on the bed frame when he pushed himself upright. “I need to see him, _please,_ I can’t wait -”

“I was not going to suggest you stay in bed.” His protests were interrupted, Ayumi’s no-nonsense tone breaking through his franticness, his fear. “I just wish to warn you, Your Majesty.”

The healer led the way through the room, not glancing back when Zuko shuffled or staggered, still adjusting his balance, after being chi blocked to unconsciousness. She knew not to walk on eggshells around him, not to treat him as fragile blown glass, the beautiful creations one would find at a fire festival.

Ayumi brought him to a smaller doorway, one of the few private rooms in the infirmary, meant specially for high infection risk patients, members of the royal family, or those who wish for peace on their deathbeds. A royal guard stood in front of the door, her hand on her sword hilt.

In case the assassin came back to finish the job.

“I don’t know how much longer he has,” she informed Zuko, without preamble. The woman always had a bluntness about her that he usually found comforting, none of the wordplay or hidden meanings that seemed to lurk in the threads of every court. “I sent firehawks to Master Katara and Master Yagoda of the Northern Water Tribe. They should be here within a few hours, before Agni reaches her peak.”

Waterbender healers, who could mend bones and stitch cuts, with only the power of their bending. Who could regrow skin, with enough skill and energy. Zuko knew why they’d been called to come.

The door was opened and Zuko stepped inside, the smell of disinfectant and burn cream hitting him like a battering ram, the minty scent filling his nose. It smelled exactly as he remembered it, the medicine used to treat extreme burns.

Sokka was- Sokka was-

Sokka was breathing. He’s laying on a bed, a towel draped over his waist, a guise of modesty purely for the unconscious body in the room. He was _covered_ in bandages, very little of his skin exposed, save the few unharmed - _unburnt_ \- patches. His face was half wrapped, his hair shaved back, an eye concealed by white fabric.

Zuko could only manage a few steps closer, until his fingers wrapped around his husband’s ankle, the skin smooth and unblemished. The room was blurring before him, and he could barely breath as he spoke, choking back the sobs that well in his chest.

“I swear, I will find who did this.” He hissed the words, an oath, a promise, with Sokka’s labored breaths filling the small room, a healer and guard at his back. “They will regret ever coming for you, my love.”

He leaves the room with a kiss gently placed on Sokka’s knuckles, brushing bandages as he leans in. He leaves the smell of mint and death behind, walking with a single minded purpose, his pair of loyal guards joining him as he left the medical wing, sticking close.

The walk to the armory is short, the torches flaring as Zuko strode by, still barefoot, still soot stained, still smelling of smoke and blood. 

Servants and nobles moved out of his way without question, cowering from him the same way they did for Ozai, their wide eyes tracking him as he passed, as he moved one step closer to vengeance, to ending the person who tried to take Sokka from him.

The royal armory contained the clothes he’d been hoping for, lightweight armor plates, a stylized war helm, the one worn when grievous crimes had been committed and the Fire Lord was there to give retribution.

His wakizashi went at his waist, his tantō sheathed at the other hip. Zuko armed himself with the ruthless efficiency born of practice, of countless days confined to a small, metal ship. He prepared himself in a strange calm, his fury simmering as time ticks by.

His dao, so well cared for, sharp and oiled, took their place on his back, their familiar weight reminding him of other times, when he once saved innocents with his blades -- now, he did not conceal his face. The assassin would know they were being hunted, and they would know the terror Zuko had felt, his lifeline burning in their bed.

Zuko met Katara, Aang, and Yagoda in a courtyard, the women windswept from racing to the palace on Appa, each with their own supplies, their own canteens of enriched water resting at their sides. The older healer went inside immediately, Aang following after her, only a quick glance and wave cast in Zuko’s direction, before the younger man rushed past, worry shining in his gray eyes.

Katara, though…she paused, stopping in front of Zuko. He watched as she took in his weapons, his armor, the war helm resting on his head. 

“You’re going to kill them,” she said, and it wasn’t a question. She knew what he intended to do, what lines he’d cross for her brother. He nodded, not bothering with an explanation; there was no need. “Good.”

That was her simple approval, the only thing she said to him before making her way to the infirmary, before going to save her brother, while Zuko avenged him.

The Healer and the Fire Lord, the hurricane and the fire storm, shared a moment of understanding before they passed each other by.

  
  


_______________

  
  


It took Zuko one week - _an eternity_ \- to find the assassin, seven days to track down, vet, and interrogate any leads or contacts. Most of them gave in easily, stuttering out answers as he slung question after question, face twisted in rage and voice raised at a shout, the smell of ozone following him to every conversation.

The answers came quickly. There was no other option.

He found the assassin at the docks, in a small trading town, their wealth bolstered by the flourishing economy. He found the man waiting, his bags at his feet, his escape to the Earth Kingdom only an hour from departure.

Zuko could hear the sudden silence that always followed his appearance -- as townspeople recognized his scar, as they stopped and looked and _listened,_ curious of why their esteemed ruler would set foot in their home.

It was far too easy, in the end.

The man turned, a casual look, a glance at the buildings behind him, and caught sight of Zuko, stalking towards him, dao unsheathed and gleaming in Agni’s light.

Zuko saw the moment the man began shaking.

It appeared that word of Zuko’s journey had spread, after the Fire Lord appeared at the homes, the bathhouses and taverns frequented by his leads. After he’d dragged men and women into the street, the city guard standing by, and demanded answers of where he could find the firebender who’d started all of this.

Zuko wasn’t sure if it was arrogance or _honor_ that stopped the man from running, that made him stoop for his own sword, blade drawn from his pack. Despite the assassin’s obvious fear, he turned to meet his Fire Lord, terror twisting into rage as he raised his blade.

The assassin waited until Zuko was only a few paces away, before trying to speak. There were no pleads for mercy, no desperate apologies. It was almost refreshing, to be met with a hard stare and defiance.

“It had to be done,” the man said, snarling as he swung his blade, sparks flying where it was blocked by Zuko’s. “You are _weak,_ and your reign will end. Your family will die around you, and you will be left with nothing but their ashes -”

The honed edges of Zuko’s dao blades were far sharper than the other man’s, the metal far superior. With a quick downward strike, he severed the other blade at the hilt, and struck the assassin in the chest, landing a solid kick and sending him sprawling.

It was insulting, the dagger that came at him next, slicing at his face as Zuko lunged, knocking out of the assassin’s hand, the blade rebounding off cobblestone and skidding away. Dao blade met chest, metal met - _broke_ \- bones, and the other man choked on his next breath, blood bubbling and spilling from his lips.

“I do not _care_ what you think,” Zuko growled, so close he could feel the assassin’s stuttering gasps, a mockery of a lover’s embrace. “You hurt my husband. You, and everyone else involved, will pay for what you did.”

And so his swords claimed a second life.

He watched as the man died, life fading from his eyes, limbs going slack as his head lolled back. Zuko left him on the ground, his blade wiped clean on the man’s pants, blood pooling on the cobblestones beneath him.

He did not know the assassin’s name. 

He did not care.

  
  


_______________

  
  


Ayumi was the first face to greet him in the healing halls, with Agni far below the horizon, Yue shining bright in the sky. She looked -- relieved, in a word. She looked better than he’d last seen her, the dark circles faded, her careful presentation more put together.

“He is sleeping, but he is well.” No titles, no fancy words or phrases. Still dressed in his armor, the helm weighing heavy on his head, Ayumi’s straightforwardness was exactly what he needed.

Zuko answered her with a nod, grateful, as she led him to the private room, now for just that - privacy - rather than fear of infection or death. A guard still stood at the door, the woman offering a short bow before she stepped aside, allowing them entry.

Sokka was…

Sokka was sleeping, peaceful, on the bed. The bandages that had covered him were gone, the stench of pain and fear replaced with a soft jasmine scent, wafting from a still-warm teapot, which rested on the bedside table, two cups next to it.

It was a weight off his shoulders, off his soul, to see his husband unharmed, the charred skin and deep burns replaced by what could almost be a sunburn, Sokka’s skin the faintest bit red, a film of aloe over it.

Zuko sat on a stool that had been drawn close, presumably by previous visitors. He took his partner’s hand, squeezing gently, reassuring himself that _it was real._

Sokka did not disappear, or fade away, or cry out in pain, burning and bleeding, as he did in Zuko’s nightmares, the few times he’d slept on his journey. He shifted in his sleep, brow furrowing before he settled again, calm. Whole.

The helm went by the teapot, the blades stacked neatly on the floor. Zuko did not sleep, no matter how much he wished to, the exhaustion of the last week catching up to him. Instead, he kept watch, until Agni rose again, until Sokka turned and opened his eyes, wide and blue and _alive_.

Zuko knew they weren’t invincible, but it hardly mattered with Sokka safe in his arms.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [MuffinLance](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/pseuds/MuffinLance) for Captain Izumi and [shosty](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/shosty/pseuds/shosty)for Healer Ayumi (their writing is fucking gorgeous, please check in out if you haven't), for letting me borrow your amazing characters and fit them into my story.
> 
> Please lemme know what you thought!! Comments tell me if I'm doing good, if the writing's coherent and characters on track. (much love to all y'all regular commenters out there, you keep me going)
> 
> (Also, what other things do you want to see happen in this series? My grab bag of ideas is running low.)
> 
> Stay safe and stay healthy!!


End file.
